


The Aftermath

by IdunAurora



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (kind of), (meaning a few aged-up characters), Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, First Kiss, First Meetings, Hangover, House Party, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Morning After, No underage drinking, Party, Partying, Skater!Yuuri, Theater student Viktor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-26 05:39:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12052464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdunAurora/pseuds/IdunAurora
Summary: Unless Viktor’s room had somehow shrunk to about half its size, been redecorated and refurnished overnight, the room he was in was definitely not his. Even his hungover brain couldn’t convince him the former option was possible.Viktor squeezed his eyes shut, groaned lightly and massaged his throbbing temples.…well, fuck.What had actually happened last night?**In which Viktor gets black-out drunk and wakes up in a room he doesn't recognize, on a bed he doesn't recognize, beside a person he doesn't recognize. He does, however, recognize that the stranger sleeping beside him is utterly and terribly adorable.At least he's still wearing his boxers. That's... good? Right?





	The Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> I had to abruptly start work last week, and it's been a very, very hectic time. So, as I've absolutely been unable to make time to edit and post the next chapter of Gubraithian Fire due to Real Life, I pulled this from the depths of my Scrivener files and polished it only a little, because it might just stay there if I don't post it soon. It's a few months old, so...
> 
> Rated M for language and sexual themes.

His head was spinning behind closed eyelids, stomach churning uncomfortably. Viktor groaned and stirred, slowly drifting in and out of the world of lucidity (and of the living). He willed his breathing to even out as he fought against the nausea and the jackhammer pounding unforgivably onto the inside of his skull.

The amount of alcohol consumed the previous night had been unreal, and now, it was coming back to bite him hard in the ass.

Viktor winced at the merciless headache and blinked his eyes open, bleary and watery, squinting painfully in the soft daylight filtering in through the curtains.

He blinked again, frowning deeply. His curtains were fuchsia, he was sure. So why were they…

…blue?

It took him another good minute to come to the conclusion that the curtains, in fact, weren’t his. Nor were the laminated, light bamboo floor or the cream-colored wallpaper with blue and green floral patterns.

So, unless Viktor’s room had somehow shrunk to about half its size, been redecorated and refurnished overnight, the room he was in was _definitely_ not his. Even his hungover brain couldn’t convince him the former option was possible.

Viktor squeezed his eyes shut, groaned lightly and massaged his throbbing temples.

 _…well, fuck_.

What had actually happened last night?

He let his mind track back in time to the previous day. He remembered that he had, for some inexplicable reason, allowed Chris to drag him along to a house party hosted by social butterfly, social media genius, and figure skater Phichit Chulanont. The house belonged to the skater’s coach, who rented it to Phichit and his other student, whatever his name was. Viktor couldn’t for the life of him remember.

There had been music, dancing, and alcohol. Mostly alcohol. At least for Viktor who, even though he had been reluctant to attend at all, had found himself dragged into a series of drinking games from the very moment he got there. Whatever happened after all of _those_ was a blur and unhelpful snapshots that made no sense to his hazy, hungover brain.

Speaking of his head, it was pounding hard, Viktor’s attempt to remember turning physically painful.

He had lost Chris at some point, obviously. He had danced with… someone, or maybe several people and… uh…

…had he left the house?

He couldn’t remember.

Which also meant he had no idea where he was.

Viktor cursed at the thought through gritted teeth, squeezing his eyes shut in agony. He had never drunk himself to the point of memory loss before, and it was probably not freaking him out as much as it should, but it definitely made him anxious. However, he was in too much aching hangover pain to care at that moment.

Suddenly, he tensed, eyes shooting wide open.

The surface he was lying on shifted slightly, sheets rustling behind him. Viktor swallowed, mouth dry.

 _Shit_.

He was lying on a bed, that much he could gather. And… someone was apparently lying on the same bed, right beside him.

Dread pooling in his nauseous gut, Viktor risked looking down, squinting, before letting out a long sigh of relief. He was clothed, his button down mostly buttoned and his boxers still on, his legs covered with a comfortably soft blanket, his black jeans neatly folded by his feet. There was no evidence that anything worthy of too much regret had transpired last night.

He could hope, at least.

Still, there was someone sleeping in the same bed, right next to him. Possibly, or rather probably, the owner of said bed.

Heart pounding fiercely in his chest as the jackhammer attempted to work its way through his skull, Viktor braced himself and carefully turned around to have a look at the bed’s other occupant, and…

…oh… _oh!_

Dry eyes shot open wide, quickly filling up with tears, and he had to blink a few times to be able to keep them open, covering his mouth to suppress a surprised gasp as his heart leaped up into his throat. He had no idea who the boy was, but he did know he was… was…

…utterly and positively adorable. Irresistibly gorgeous. So terribly, terribly beautiful.

Silky, black locks, messy and mussed with sleep, finely sculpted, fair features with soft edges, slightly chapped yet plump lips slightly parted, the lightest dusting of healthy pink on his cheeks. He was definitely of Asian descent, Viktor figured. A pair of blue-rimmed spectacles were placed on the nightstand beside the boy, and he was dressed in an over-sized, cream-colored t-shirt. The rest of his body, waist and down, was covered by a light blue duvet. He was breathing softly and evenly, a peaceful look on his smooth features.

Well, for a second longer, at least.

As if sensing Viktor was awake and (shamelessly, dumbfounded) staring, frozen in place, the angelic being stirred in his sleep, brow creasing slightly as he rolled over onto his back, the t-shirt slipping down over his shoulder to expose silken skin and a well-defined collarbone. Viktor’s dry mouth watered embarrassingly and his heart damn near jumped straight of his chest as the boy yawned, lifting his hand up to rub the sleep from his eyes before opening them, blinking as they adjusted to the light.

Then, he turned his head, and Viktor was gone.

Warm pools of melted, dark chocolate, wide and doe-y, met his bleary aquamarines, and he felt his insides turn into gooey fondue.

_Adorable!_

“Oh, you’re awake.” The angel spoke, voice a little thick and hoarse with sleep. He rubbed his eyes again and reached for the glasses on the nightstand, placing them neatly on the bridge of his nose to get a better look at Viktor, who suddenly realized he probably looked like a pile of last year’s garbage in comparison to the perfection incarnate beside him. “How are you feeling?”

Oh, Viktor was _feeling_ , all right. A lot of things in fact. He also very much wanted to know who the angel was.

Also, the angel had asked him a question.

 _Uh… gulp_.

Viktor struggled to find his voice, because if the headache from hell hadn’t indicated otherwise, he would have been sure he was dreaming. Or that he had died from alcohol poisoning and ascended to heaven.

“Oh, um…” Viktor croaked out, clearing his throat as he realized his voice was cracking embarrassingly, “…headache.”

Yeah, headache. He was feeling a headache. He congratulated himself immensely on not telling Adorable Asian that he also was about to feel a cardiac arrest, and possibly asphyxiation.

A small smile somewhere in the grey zone of sympathetic and amused grazed the angel’s lips. Despite them being obviously dry from sleep, they looked devastatingly soft. Pink. Delicious.

A taste would be nice, Viktor thought.

Thankfully, the boy spoke before Viktor’s treacherous tongue decided to ask if he actually could have a taste without consulting his brain first.

“There’s a glass of water and some aspirin on the stool beside you.” Angel of Cute informed him, gesturing behind Viktor. “Start with that. Are you nauseous?”

“Oh,” Viktor steadied himself on his elbows to lift himself up a little, locating the meds and the water exactly where the boy had told him they would be, “thanks. A-and no, not really. Not anymore. Only right after waking up.”

“Oh, good.” The angel sighed in relief, sitting up while Viktor popped some aspirin into his mouth and used the entirety on the water in the glass to wash it all down. “Well, I guess I’m making breakfast then… or lunch, I guess.” He paused, finally deciding: “Brunch it is.”

He stood up and stretched, and Viktor had to restrain himself hard to neither drool nor squeal. The drool-part was that the angel’s over-sized _crop-top_ rode up to reveal lean, taut muscle beneath unfairly soft and delectable-looking skin, a lithe and strong figure to die for. The squeal-part were the light blue pajama bottoms. With a cartoon poodle pattern.

Cute and hot all in one.

 _Get a man who can do both,_ wasn’t that what Chris always said?

It was only then that Viktor registered that Perfection-On-Legs had said something about brunch.

“It’s okay,” he quickly spoke up, not wanting to be more of a bother although he definitely wanted to stay, preferably indefinitely, “I seem to have caused enough trouble already.”

The angel shrugged, “Not really,” he said, rummaging through a dresser to pull out a fresh set of clothes, “and you look like you could use something to eat.” Closing the dresser, he paused, turning to look at Viktor with a curious expression, warm, maroon eyes glinting behind the glasses. “How much do you actually remember from last night, anyway?”

From somewhere in the distance, Viktor heard himself gulp audibly.

_Oh._

His cheeks heated up to maximum Fahrenheit, which caused the boy to let out a laugh so sweet that Viktor forgot about his embarrassment for a moment. Instead, he would’ve like to record the laugh to use it as his ringtone for the rest of his life. And also as his alarm noise. Preferably for incoming messages, too.

“Sorry, sorry!” Poodle Pants still apologized, but kept grinning cheekily as an unbearably adorable shade of cherry blossom pink came to adorn his cheeks, “I guess you really don’t remember much at all.”

“Not… not exactly.” Viktor admitted, terribly sheepish, worrying his bottom lip. “Was it… bad?”

It was probably _bad_ beyond repair, he figured. But the angel _was_ smiling, so…

Perfection Incarnate hummed, “Well… that’s a, uh, subjective opinion, isn’t it?” he replied diplomatically, shrugging again and definitely avoiding the question (Viktor really wanted the earth to swallow him up whole and spit him out somewhere on the other side of the globe). “I’ll take a shower and then go make us some brunch; I don’t think Phichit’s going to be up for a while yet. There’s an extra towel and a still-packaged toothbrush in the bathroom, if you need.” He then gestured to the clothes in his hands. “I’ll be quick.”

_Huh?_

“W-wait!” Viktor exclaimed, sitting up fully before he could stop himself. The angel turned around, tilting his head adorably, causing his cheeks to heat up again at the sight, “I…” he took a deep breath, shame filling him from head to toe, “I’m so, so sorry, this is so terribly embarrassing but…” _gulp_ , “…I don’t even remember your name.”

Poodle Angel blinked, and Viktor was certain: he had fucked up royally. He would bury himself under a rock in Russia and live there for the rest of his life. But then, the angel laughed, bright and tingling, and Viktor quickly reconsidered his conclusion, because he had suddenly been blessed with the most beautiful sound in the history of the universe.

“Of course you don’t.” The angel grinned, looking all too amused, and Viktor started considering the live-under-a-rock-in-Russia-solution again. “I’m Yuuri, Yuuri Katsuki. I’m Phichit’s house- and rinkmate.”

Viktor was rewarded with another silver-bell-laugh as an involuntary sigh of relief escaped his lips. Still, a small smile stretched out onto his face as he looked up at his host.

 _Yuuri_.

“Nice to meet you when I’m sober, Yuuri.” He told him, sincerely. “And if I stay for brunch, will you tell me how I ended up… well, here?”

Yuuri laughed again, and Viktor considered himself blessed.

“Deal.” He promised. “And nice to meet you, too, Viktor.”

Well, at least Yuuri seemed to know and remember _his_ name.

As his host headed to the bathroom, Viktor took the time to bury his face in his hands and curse under his breath in his mother tongue.

What the _hell_ happened last night?

 

When Viktor exited the bathroom, having thankfully been allowed to change into a pair of Yuuri’s oversized sweatpants and one of his t-shirts that was only a little too tight over his broader shoulders, the most heavenly smell greeted him from downstairs. He followed the divine aroma to the kitchen, where he found the raven-haired angel, _Yuuri_ , by the stove, bacon in one frying pan and scrambled eggs in another, a stack of pancaked beside him on a plate.

“Feeling better?” Yuuri asked before Viktor could find words to express his enormous gratitude (and also ask if he was dreaming or not).

“Yeah, a lot better; thanks.” Viktor replied with a smile, pulling a hand through damp, silver locks. “For everything.” He added as he placed himself on a stool by the kitchen island behind Yuuri, who hummed in response.

“Coffee?”

“Yes, please.” Viktor groaned, making Yuuri chuckle.

“All right.” He agreed, swiftly moving over to the coffee maker.

About ten minutes later, Viktor was seated across from Yuuri by the kitchen table, with bacon, eggs and pancakes on his plate and a mug of coffee with a lot of sugar steaming hot in front of him.

“Vkusno!” he sighed happily, enjoying Yuuri’s cooking very much and wondering if the boy would be opposed to marrying him instantly, “This is delicious, Yuuri.”

The boy shrugged, swallowing down some scrambled eggs and bacon, a small smile and an ever so subtle blush on his features, “It should be a sufficient cure for hangovers… but thanks.”

Modest.

Soon, however, there was no dancing around the inevitable any longer. Viktor poured himself some more water and downed the whole glass before clearing his throat, cheeks already turning red.

“So…” he began, feeling much more nervous than he’d like to admit, “…what happened last night?”

Yuuri hummed, placing down his tea, “How much do you remember?”

“Mostly nothing.” Viktor admitted sheepishly. “I came here with Chris and then got dragged into the drinking games about ten seconds later. I vaguely remember dancing, and that I lost Chris at some point… I think. The rest is all a blur.” He felt the heat on his cheeks increasing as Yuuri gave him a small, kind of reassuring but mostly amused smile.

“Not that it’ll probably help or anything, but I’m quite sure you aren’t the only one to not remember most of the party.” He informed Viktor, sipping his tea. “Most people left in a… less lucid condition, let’s go with that. I’m actually surprised that not more people decided to crash here this time around; I usually come downstairs to find sleeping guests on the couch and all over the place in general, but not today. Then again, there were quite a few designated drivers here, and I called at least three Ubers, so…” he shrugged again.

“When did Chris leave?”

“Blond, dark undercut, flirty?” Yuuri clarified, and Viktor nodded, as the description sounded terribly accurate, “He left with Louis, a rinkmate of Phichit’s and mine. They were, uh…” he theatrically cleared his throat, an amused smirk playing on his alluring lips, “…quite attached.”

“Oh?” Viktor cocked an eyebrow, a grin spreading on his face, “Were they now?”

Yuuri grinned back, “While it did look like they were practicing CPR, I don’t really think that was the case.” Viktor snorted at the mental image. “I assume you haven’t heard from him, since you’re asking.”

“Indeed, I haven’t.” Viktor confirmed, checking his phone. Not a word from Chris, and the battery was almost dead. “I imagine he would’ve dragged me home if he hadn’t been, ah… _busy_.”

Yuuri _giggled_ , completely oblivious to the heart attack Viktor was suffering right in front of his nose, “Probably.”

Well, there was really no avoiding it any longer, was there?”

Viktor steeled himself and took a deep breath.

“…and what did I actually do last night?”

There was a twinkle of amusement in Yuuri’s burgundy eyes, and Viktor’s stomach rapidly tied itself into a knot, just so it could drop to the floor and down to the cellar faster.

“Well,” the raven spoke, running a hand through his soft, dark strands, “you… how to put this…” he worried his lower lip slightly, sending Viktor’s mind in the direction of Very Inappropriate Thoughts, “…you were… very clingy.”

_…uh-oh. Oh no. No, no, no._

All oxygen left his lungs, and Viktor groaned, burying his head in his hands.

“How many people did I harass?”

“Oh! Uh…” Yuuri sounded taken aback, a blush spreading on his cheeks and an even smaller, unmistakably nervous laugh escaped his lips, “…n-no, I mean, you weren’t… clinging to people left and right.”

_Huh?_

Viktor snapped his head up, just in time to see the cherry blush on Yuuri’s cheeks deepening, spreading towards his ears.

_…fuck. God-fucking-damnit!_

Turning into his best impression of a tomato, Viktor cursed inwardly in every language he knew and outwardly in Russian.

“Blyad! I’m so, so sorry, Yuuri!” he apologized frantically, dread filling his chest at an alarming rate and pooling in his stomach, his cheeks overheating and the burning glow spreading to his ears and down his neck.

Yuuri laughed.

Viktor died.

“It’s okay, you were quite entertaining.” He mused cheekily. “And _very_ flattering.”

“Boshe moy…!” Viktor groaned. He had never been more embarrassed in his life, and seriously considered ordering a tombstone and a plane ticket to Siberia to bury himself in the tundra as soon as possible, “What did I do? What did I _say?_ ”

Yuuri gave him a thoughtful look, “…you sure you want to know everything? Right now, I mean?”

“So I know what I’ll have to apologize for, yes.” Viktor replied, determined (and definitely dead).

Yuuri nodded understandingly, “All right.” He finally agreed, taking another sip of his tea. “Well, let’s see…”

 

_The night before_

“Thanks, Yuuri.” Yuuko sighed in relief as they finally managed to get a very drunk Takeshi into the back of the Uber. “I’m so sorry for the trouble.”

"Don’t be.” Yuuri assured her, waving it off. “Will you two get home all right?”

Yuuko nodded, smiling slightly, “Yeah, but I think I’ve never been more thankful for living on the first floor; only one set of stairs to manage.” She gave Yuuri a quick hug. “See you on Monday.”

Yuuri gave her a pat on the back, “Good night, Yuu-chan.”

With the Uber taking off, Yuuri headed back inside to the party that was still in full swing and seemed to slowly be spiraling out of control. Where all the alcohol had come from, he wasn’t entirely sure (and he _would_ interrogate Phichit about it when he was sober), but he _did_ know that people were consuming it generously, and that the Uber he had ordered for Yuuko and Takeshi had been the third one for the evening.

“Yuuu-uuri!” his rinkmate Louis suddenly appeared in the hallway, slurring and blocking Yuuri’s path (probably unintentionally), “Yuuri, darling, have you met this hottie?” he gestured to the blond attached to his waist, who seemed busy trying to taste every little bit of skin on Louis’ neck that he could access, “This is Chris, Yuuuuri; such a _candy_.”

“Oh, you’re even cuter up close.” Chris observed, grinning, shifting his attention momentarily to Yuuri, flirty and cat-like and shamelessly eyeing him up and down. It was right about then that Yuuri realized Chris’ button down and jeans were open, and there was absolutely no doubt as to what they had been doing and what they were _going_ to do once they got out of the house.

“Thanks, nice to meet you.” Yuuri replied as calmly as possibly, attempting to be polite about it and not run right past them to the living room, no matter how much he wanted to. Both his rinkmate and his rinkmate’s… whatever he was were obviously drunk out of their minds, probably less on alcohol and more on lust.

“You too, Yuuri~” Chris purred while groping Louis’ ass, turning his gaze back up at the brunet with half-lidded eyes, giving him a smoldering look, “Are you taking me home, handsome?” he inquired sultrily, turning his head briefly to grin at Yuuri, winking, “Wanna join? I don’t mind.”

Yuuri covered up a choked breath with a chuckle. It wasn’t the first time he had been, uh… _invited_ to such shenanigans.

“I’ll be staying at home, thanks.” He replied quickly, fighting off a blush and determinedly stepping around them. “You have fun.”

“Oh, we will.” Louis promised, voice an octave lower than normal, his hand somewhere down Chris’ underwear before they even managed to open the door. “See you on Monday at practice, Yuuri!”

Yuuri shook his head slightly to himself as the two attempted to find their jackets while sucking each other’s faces, and ventured into the living room instead where people were still drinking (was it three in the morning already?) and dancing and generally having a good, drunken time. He spotted Leo and Guang-Hong stealthily (giggly) making their way to the kitchen and prayed to all the deities imaginable that they were lucid enough to call their own Uber, then rolled his eyes as he realized JJ and Isabella were having almost-sex on the couch. Again. It had happened before, but they had never overstepped that final boundary and had actual, _actual_ sex (though Yuuri could swear they were about to make their underwear messy any second), so it was mostly all right. Kind of. Not really, but mostly.

There weren’t enough rooms in the house for them to actually “get a room” anyway.

“Yuuuuuuri!”

Yuuri huffed out a surprised breath as his housemate draped himself over him, then wrinkled his nose as the stingy smell of too many tequilas hit him full force in the face. Phichit was positively reeking of the liquor.

“Yuuri-kun, come on, join in the fun!” his best friend slurred before Yuuri could complain about his abominable breath, “Dance with me!”

Well, as long as he didn’t ask Yuuri to _drink_ …

“All right.” Yuuri humored him, allowing himself to be dragged further into the room. “Having fun?”

“You bet!” Phichit grinned, “Best house party ever! And you know what?” his eyes sparkled as he beamed like the sunshine he was made of, “Seung-Gil danced with me, Yuuri. He _danced_ with me! I’m soooo happy!”

Yuuri absolutely couldn’t help the grin that spread on his face at the sight of Phichit’s blissfully joyous expression.

“That’s nice.” He agreed as his best friend nodded eagerly. “Where is he, by the way?”

“Bathroom.” Phichit explained. “He said to wait here, so…”

Suddenly, someone stumbled towards them and Yuuri, most likely being the only sober person left in the house (apart from Otabek, who was designated to drive his boyfriend Yuri home and spent the entire night looking after the angry tiger), instinctively reached out to catch the person before they hit the floor…

…only to find himself in very close proximity to the most beautiful fairy-tale prince he had ever seen. Even though said fairy-tale prince was terribly, terribly drunk.

“ _Wow_.” The otherworldly being breathed out, seemingly awestruck, bright blue ocean eyes sparkling in wonder, the silver hair all messed up as he quickly lifted an arm to push back the fringe from his face to get a better look at Yuuri, “Hello, gorgeous!”

Wasn’t that Yuuri’s line?

Well, if it hadn’t been for the fact that the slurring stranger was absolutely shitfaced drunk, Yuuri might have blushed brighter than he did.

“Oh, Viktor!” Phichit grinned widely, “You haven’t met Yuuri, have you? He’s my housemate. Rinkmate. Best friend forever!”

Viktor’s rosy-tinged porcelain featured lit up even more, and Yuuri really started wishing he was wearing shades instead of regular glasses.

“Oh, you’re real, then!” Fairy Prince Viktor exclaimed happily, an adorable, heart-shaped smile on his lips as his arms snuck around Yuuri’s neck, pulling them closer together, “I thought I was dreaming; I didn’t know brave knights in shining armor existed in real life.”

_…really?_

“Oh, you’re the flirty type.” Yuuri attempted to deduce rationally, fruitlessly trying to pry Viktor’s hands off him without the silver-haired Adonis noticing. “Well, nice to meet you, Viktor.”

“The _pleasure_ is all mine, Yuuuuri~” Viktor purred, clinging to Yuuri like an octopus and resisted every subtle attempt at being removed, “You’re so cute! Do you have a girlfriend?”

_Huh?_

Yuuri blinked, confused, “No.”

“Oh,” Viktor tilted his head, and Yuuri suddenly became aware that Viktor’s shirt was entirely unbuttoned and that his pants had slipped down to his ankles (which was probably why he had stumbled in the first place), “boyfriend, then?”

Yuuri cheeks turned crimson, more due to his recent discovery than because of the actual question, “N-no…”

“Oh, good!” Viktor grinned, a hand sneaking dangerously close to Yuuri’s ass, and Yuuri quickly grabbed his wrist to stop the hand from venturing to No Trespassing-territory, “Do you dance, Yuuuuuri?”

“I-I minor in dance…”

Viktor’s aquamarine eyes widened, sparkling brighter than the ocean on a sunny day, ”Then dance with me!”

And before Yuuri could react, Viktor had discarded his pants completely and pulled him onto the floor, moving approximately to _Pour some sugar on me_ while attempting to get his hands all over the furiously blushing mess that was Yuuri. Viktor smelled strongly of liquor and ridiculously expensive cologne, and he was less than steady on his feet.

“Had a fun night?” Yuuri tried distracting him with a question while attempting to stop Viktor from grinding against him. And from groping his ass.

“Better now that you showed up.” Viktor grinned slyly, their noses almost touching. Yuuri quickly placed a hand on Viktor’s chest to keep some distance, and blushed harder as his hand met toned, chiseled pecs, no layer of fabric in between. “Did it hurt?”

_Oh god…!_

Yuuri rolled his eyes, “What, when I fell from heaven?”

“No,” Viktor breathed into his ear, a yelp escaping Yuuri’s lips as he realized Viktor was _nibbling on his earlobe_ , “when you fell for me.”

Apparently, he was a cocky drunk, too. Yuuri finally managed to push Viktor away far enough to glare disapprovingly at him.

“I recall _you_ falling _on_ me, and not the other way around.” He replied, thanking every god there ever was that he had at least some experience with dealing with drunk college students while he was sober himself. “Who are you here with?”

“You.”

_God damn…!_

“Who did you arrive with, then?”

“I came with Chris.” Viktor slurred while Yuuri attempted to stop him from mouthing at his neck, “but I couldn’t find him when I looked.”

“Okay.” Yuuri sighed, grabbing Viktor’s chin to direct his attention to his eyes and away from his collarbones. “Do you know anyone else here?”

“Nope!” Viktor replied cheerily, “But I want to know everything about _you!_ ”

“Do you now?” Yuuri asked, humoring Viktor (and, truthfully, himself, even if he was terribly ashamed about it) by keeping his hand in his own when he finally managed to pry it off him.

“Yes.” Viktor eagerly confirmed, stumbling again, and while Yuuri tried righting their balance, it all resulted in Viktor managing to pin him to the wall without even meaning to. The prince of Yuuri’s dreams looked incredibly pleased with the result, and Yuuri might have also liked just a little more than he wanted to admit.

“Are you single?”

Yuuri yelped as something hard pressed against his hip, and it certainly wasn’t Viktor’s phone, which was probably discarded along with his jeans. Oh, if only Viktor weren’t so _drunk_ …

“Uh, I think we’ve already established that I am, yes.” Yuuri reminded him, slightly dazed, using all self-control he had not to just tilt his head up and kiss Viktor silly himself. Not now. It wasn’t right. Wouldn’t be right. What if sober-Viktor didn’t want to be kissed at all?

“Is there a girl you like?”

“No.”

“A boy?”

“No.”

Viktor pouted, batting long, silvery lashes, “Don’t you like me?”

 _Yes_.

Yuuri sucked in a sharp breath, steeling his resolve, finally settling for:

“I just met you.”

That made Viktor pause for a second, gears almost visibly turning slowly but surely in his alcohol-induced brain.

“Oh… true!” a wide, bright, heart-shaped smile spread on his face, and oh no, he was so utterly gorgeous and Yuuri was so utterly _screwed_ , “Well, then we’ll have to get to know each other! I’m Viktor, I’m Russian, I major in theater, and I’m definitely single.” He leaned in closer again, his whole body pressed against Yuuri, his wider frame easily trapping the lithe skater there, “And you?”

“W-well,” Yuuri struggled not to gulp, because he had only then realized he was talking to Viktor _freaking_ Nikiforov of the theater department, the Russian star student who got all the major roles and who Yuuri had definitely not been drooling over in the audience from time to time, “I’m Yuuri, I’m Japanese, I major in physical therapy and minor in dance, and I’m a figure skater.” He finally managed to reply, half-heartedly “attempting” to free himself from his confinement. He knew he should mind. He knew he should be bothered by it.

He wasn’t.

“Oooh, an athlete!” Viktor purred, effectively grinding on Yuuri’s thing _dangerously_ close to his own… embarrassment. “Gorgeous, cute _and_ hot. You’re quite the package, Yuuri; where do I sign to retrieve you?”

Right. Viktor’s pick-up lines really were horrible, actor or not.

“Are you always a flirty drunk?” Yuuri inquired, biting back an unwelcome moan.

“Only for you, dorogoy.” Viktor insisted.

“Sure.” Yuuri sighed, steeling himself to the max and succeeding in prying Viktor off him enough to support the Russian’s mostly dead weight. It seemed Viktor wouldn’t be able to stand at all on his own much longer. “If I called you an Uber, would you be able to make it home?”

He should have foreseen the devastating force that was Viktor’s adorable pout and his pleading puppy-eyes.

“But I don’t wanna go home, Yuuuuuriii!” he whined pitifully, clinging to him like a lifeline. Yuuri’s newly rebuilt resolve crumbled to dust.

“Okay,” he complied, changing tactics, “you can sleep here.”

Despite the fact that his eyes were already drooping, Viktor managed to somehow light up at the offer.

“Oh? With you?” he grinned delightedly, looking as ecstatic as a drunken man could when Yuuri took a steady hold around his waist and started dragging him up the stairs.

It wasn’t as if Yuuri had much of a choice other than place Vikotr on his own bed. JJ and Isabella were still occupying the couch and there were still people dancing around in the living room, Phichit and Seung-Gil included.

“Sure, sure.” Yuuri humored the Russian as they slowly made their way up the stairs. Hopefully, he’d fall asleep relatively quickly after they made it to Yuuri’s room.

“My, my, _Yuuuuri_ ,” Viktor purred, voice dropping to whiskey-bass pitched, low and sultry and definitely leaving a burning sensation pooling in Yuuri’s gut, “you’re something else, aren’t you? I’ll make you feel _good_ …”

“Easy there, Viktor!” Yuuri yelped, prying a wandering hand away from the front of his jeans, blushing furiously, and wondering if it could be considered sexual assault if he was (secretly) enjoying it, “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, all right? In here…”

“Oh, you’re right, let’s not do that.” Viktor complied, stumbling into Yuuri’s bedroom. “Mm, cozy…” he mused, before losing balance altogether and sending himself and Yuuri tumbling onto the bed, Viktor landing on top and knocking the air out of Yuuri’s lungs and probably crushing his internal organs in the process. He grinned down at a very, terribly flustered skater, “Wow!”

Yuuri squeaked, quickly sneaking out of Viktor’s grasp and placing the Russian onto the bed more properly. Viktor, however, had other plans, grabbing Yuuri’s shirt and pulling him down on top of him, somehow managing the stunt even though he looked like he could fall asleep (or rather, pass out) any second.

“You’re gorgeous,” he sighed dreamily, a clumsy hand coming up to stroke Yuuri’s cheek and raven locks, “stunning… yes, you’re perfect. Will you marry me?”

_Bzzt!_

Yuuri’s brain short-circuited as he stared wide-eyed at the drunken man beneath him, frozen in place and unable to move.

“Y-you’re not thinking straight…”

“Damn right, I’m not!” Viktor slurred giddily, and Yuuri held back an exasperated groan while prying Viktor’s hand off his shirt.

He had walked right into that one, hadn’t he?

“No, I’ve noticed.” He agreed with a sigh. “You should get some sleep, though.”

“Sure,” Viktor complied, grasping for Yuuri and pulling him flush against him in a tight embrace, “if you sleep with me, Yuuri.”

Yuuri was about to protest when he noticed Viktor drifting off, so instead of replying, he merely hummed and kept still. Waiting…

A minute later, the Russian started snoring, arms going limp. He was out cold.

Beet-red in the face and a not-too subtle problem in his pants, Yuuri wiggled out of Viktor’s grasp and stood up, breathing deeply a few times to calm himself down. With some difficulty, he managed to get the cover off the bed despite the passed-out figure lying on top of it, and also managed to free his duvet. After some hesitation, he buttoned Viktor’s shirt halfway up and covered him with a blanked, silently thanking Celestino for having invested in full beds, meaning he would fit on the other end of it and possibly have a good night’s sleep himself despite the… guest.

With Viktor bundled up, Yuuri made his way downstairs again, finding only Seung-Gil, Phichit, JJ and Isabella left in the living room, the latter two seemingly looking for their clothes and ready to leave. Good.

He sneaked past them all to the kitchen, relieved when he discovered Leo and Guang-Hong had also left, pulled out a large glass from the cupboard and filled it with water. He then grabbed Viktor’s discarded jeans from the floor and headed back upstairs.

He stopped by the bathroom brush his teeth and pull on his pajamas before grabbing some aspirin for Viktor from the med cabinet before heading back to his room, placing Viktor’s jeans at the foot of the bed and the water and the meds on a stool beside him. Finally, he crawled beneath the covers on the other side of the bed. Viktor was lying on his back, snoring slightly, a peaceful look on his, frankly, ethereal features.

With the thought that the Russian possibly wouldn’t remember too much the following morning (or then remember absolutely everything, Yuuri didn’t really know which one he preferred), he turned over onto his left side, away from Viktor, and made himself comfortable.

…he would have some explaining to do. Most likely.

 

_Present_

Viktor wanted to die. Badly. As if he hadn’t already.

Yuuri didn’t seem to know whether to laugh or laugh _hard_ at the expression of utter horror on Viktor’s face, the crimson color stretching all the way from his ears to his chest, his innards having left his body altogether in shock, leaving him numb and with a buzzing head.

Yuuri ultimately settled for just laughing as Viktor buried his face in his hands, letting out a string of profanities in jumbled English and Russian.

“I’m so, _so_ sorry, Yuuri!” he might have wanted to cry. A lot. And move back to Russia, dig his own grave, and stay there for the remainder of eternity.

“I-it’s okay!” Yuuri managed to reply between his laughter, and the sweet sound was enough to calm Viktor down a tiny little bit, “It’s okay. I was… quite flattered, to be honest.”

“I wasn’t lying, though.” Viktor decided to admit. He was already embarrassed beyond the point of I-want-to-die, so he figured he really didn’t have anything to lose any longer. “I _am_ Russian, and I _do_ major in theater… and I am single. I’m also twenty-five years old, and it’s really nice to meet you when I’m sober, Yuuri.”

“Ditto.” Yuuri grinned, finishing off his second mug of tea. “I wasn’t lying, either, about being Japanese, majoring in physical therapy, minoring in dance, and being a figure skater. I’m twenty-one, and I’m single, too.” He stood up and stretched, then started gathering the dishes. “Wanna watch a movie or something? It’ll be a while before Phichit wakes up, if he even makes it out of bed today. They were up pretty late.”

Viktor had to do a double take.

Yuuri… asked if he wanted to stay? Wanted him to stay? Despite all the manner of inappropriately horrible things he had done the night before?

Yes, he _had_ asked if Viktor wanted to watch a movie. And he had indicated that Phichit wasn’t going to be up anytime soon.

“A movie sounds nice.” He replied as casually as possible while his heartbeat could surely be heard from at least ten feet away. Then, he grinned, “Do you know how late they were up? And who’s ‘they’?”

Yuuri sent him a cheeky smile as Viktor joined him by the dishwasher, handing him the rest of the dishes from the table.

“I swear I heard Phichit and Seung-Gil stumble to Phichit’s room at around six in the morning.”

Viktor gave up a low whistle, “Yeah, that’s pretty late.” He agreed. “So, did you have a movie in mind?”

Soon, they were seated on the couch (after Yuuri checked it for, uh, _stains_ , and thankfully finding none) in the not-completely-wrecked living room with _Shanghai Blades_ playing on Netflix, a bowl of popcorn on the tea table in front of them. Not that Viktor really had any kind of resolve to focus on the movie at all.

“I didn’t lie about wanting to get to know you, either.” He confessed a good half-hour into the film. “Or however my drunk-self phrased it.”

“Your drunk-self threw an array of bad pick-up lines at me.” Yuuri replied, popping some snack into his mouth. “What do you want to know?”

Ah, there was that. Viktor blushed, but turned to meet Yuuri’s warm, chocolate gaze anyway.

“How long have you been skating?”

“Since I was four.” Yuuri replied easily.  “I started doing ballet a year earlier, though.”

“How long have you been in the States?”

“I moved here about three years ago for studies and training. I was Ciao Ciao’s only student back then, and had the house to myself. Phichit moved in a year later.” He tilted his head curiously. “What about you?”

“Me?” Viktor scratched his neck, “Well, I moved here four years ago to study theater. I’ve been an, as my mum put it, attention-seeker since I was a kid, and also had a knack for dramatics, so…” he grinned sheepishly, “…I ended my studies in St. Petersburg in favor of coming here. Or, rather, in favor of getting away. I applied to a few places, and ended up in Detroit.”

He was relieved when Yuuri nodded understandingly, “Yeah… me too. Sort of, I guess.”

The rest of the movie went forgotten as they continued chatting. Viktor learned that Yuuri had been quite shy around people until he moved to the States, but with the skating, the dancing, and especially with a social butterfly for a housemate and best friend, he had gradually started getting more comfortable with interacting with others a little mote. He still disliked crowds and hadn’t exactly been enjoying himself at the party the previous night, but being like they were now, just Viktor and Yuuri on the couch in a surrounding Yuuri felt comfortable in, the angel seemed to be at ease.

“How long have you been skating competitively?” Viktor asked.

“Uh…” Yuuri scratched his neck, cheeks dusting pink, “…well, I entered the junior division at thirteen and the senior division at fifteen… and I did small, local competitions since age eleven, I think.”

“Can I find you on the internet, then?”

Yuuri’s blush burned brighter, reaching his ears, “…probably.” He murmured shyly, averting his gaze. Intrigued, Viktor reached for his phone that was charging on the table.

“Whatever does _that_ mean?” he inquired, tapping Yuuri’s name into the search bar. Then, he almost dropped his phone,  “You have a _Wikipedia-page?_ ”

“Um…” Yuuri shifted a little, looking like he was trying to hide a small, small smile. Or his entire face. Viktor tapped the page open.

And almost dropped the phone again, eyes shooting open wide and jaw slackening in shock.

“ _Yuuri!_ ” he exclaimed, dumbfounded, staring from the shy, blushing boy beside him to the information on his phone screen, “You’re… you’re the _ruling world champion!_ ”

“…there’s that.” Yuuri admitted with a squeak, but there was definitely a grin visible between his fingers.

“You’re holding _two_ world records!”

“Three.” Yuuri corrected him in a small voice, slowly lowering his hands. “Short program, free program, and highest overall score. From the previous World Championships.”

“You have an _Olympic bronze medal!_ ”

“Ah, from Vancouver, yes.” Yuuri nodded, finally shrugging Viktor’s disbelief off, cheeks still aflame, albeit a smile had stretched out onto soft, pink lips. “I’m going for gold in Sochi next year, though.”

“I’m going to watch every single video of you I can find.” Viktor announced, YouTube already open.

“Suit yourself.” Yuuri sighed, humoring him. “Fancy a walk? I need to stretch my legs.”

The end-credits of the movie were playing on the TV-screen. Viktor stretched his long limbs and accepted defeat for the time being, pocketing his phone.

“A walk sounds nice.” He agreed, standing up. Then, the thought struck him, and he quickly pulled out his phone again. “Yuuri?”

“Hm?” the world-class skater turned around, looking at him curiously. Before he could start second-guessing himself, Viktor held out his phone.

“Can I have your number?”

Yuuri grinned, walking back over to him to accept the offered mobile.

“Only if I can have yours.”

 

**

 

“I’m in love.”

Chris almost choked on the latte he was trying to drink.

“Excuse me?!” he coughed, turning his wide-eyed gaze at Viktor, “That’s my line! And who’s the lucky one?”

“Oh, Chris, he’s fucking _perfect!_ ” Viktor groaned, “And he’s miles out of my league. What do I even do?”

“Hey, hold on, take ten steps back and start over.” Chris told his best friend over the small café table. “Who’s perfect and way out of your league? I didn’t even think such a person existed; please educate me, darling.”

“Yuuri.” Viktor replied reverently, as if the name he was speaking was holy and shouldn’t be used lightly. “Yuuri Katsuki.”

Chris blinked. Then, his eyes widened.

“Phichit’s housemate?” he clarified, “That hot figure skater?”

“The world champion, the Olympic medalist, the angel walking on Earth, yes!” Viktor confirmed, letting his head fall back into his palms again, “Him.”

“Oh, my,” Chris grinned, suddenly very much interested, “you’re got it bad, honey.”

“Tell me about it.” Viktor breathed.

“Is he really all those things, though? World champion and Olympic medalist?”

“Look it up for yourself, on his freaking _Wikipedia-page_.” Viktor told him, gesturing to Chris’ phone on the table. “And watch a routine or fifteen. He makes music with his body, he’s made of magic and all my sweetest dreams, and I’m hopelessly in love with him.”

Judging by the look on Chris’ face, he had found the damned Wiki-page. Because Yuuri had one of those. Yeah.

Un-fucking-believable.

“No way!” Chris gaped, staring at the screen in shock.

“Yes way!”

“And you got this guy’s _number?_ ”

“After I clung to him like an octopus, sexually harassed him in my drunken state, asked him to marry me, and woke up in his bed without remembering any of it… yes.”

Chris was wheezing with laughter, clutching his stomach. Viktor didn’t even have the heart to glare at him, much too disappointed in himself to do so.

“Hoo, boy!” Chris gasped out, tears in the corners of his eyes from the intense attack of amusement, “And then you spent the day with him, somehow… didn’t you?”

“He made me brunch, we put on a movie we didn’t watch, went for a walk and then had pizza together.” Viktor buried his face in his hands again. “How many dates are you supposed to go on before you can propose?”

“I thought you already did.” This time, Viktor _did_ glare at him. “Also, you’ve got to ask him out first if you intend on actually going on a date at all.”

That made Viktor pause.

“Right!” he realized, pulling his phone from his pocket, “I need to do that, don’t I?”

Chris grinned, “Go get him, sunshine.”

 

**

 

“What do I _do?_ ”

“Is that an actual question?” Phichit gaped at his housemate, smacking Yuuri lightly on the head with the magazine in his hand, “You say _yes_ , of course!”

“B-but…!” Yuuri stuttered, blushing furiously as he stared at the message on the screen, “…why would he be interested in _me?_ ”

“This guy literally asked you to marry him!” Phichit groaned in exasperation, snatching Yuuri’s phone from his hands and holding it out of reach, “If you don’t tell him _yes_ right this instant, I’m going to do it for you, and I’ll add a bunch of heart- and kissy-face-emojis. And eggplants.”

Yuuri felt his blood run cold, and he instinctively tackled his best friend to the couch to get the phone back as quickly as possible. He knew Phichit wasn’t kidding; his threat wasn’t empty and would become reality unless Yuuri did as told. Still, having won his phone back, he worried his bottom lip, frowning slightly.

“What if he thinks I’m boring?”

“Just tell him you’ll go on a date with him, you moron!” Phichit exclaimed, poking Yuuri hard in the side, causing him to let out an undignified yelp, “You’ve been gushing about the guy for a day, and you sure as hell aren’t going to say no.”

“But…”

“You’re the ruling men’s single figure skating world champion. Olympic bronze medalist. You’re _not_ out of this guy’s league, no matter how mouth-wateringly gorgeous he is. Now, tell him you accept, and I’ll get started on my best-man-speech.”

“ _Phichit!_ ”

 

**

 

“What if he thinks I’m boring?”

“Viktor…”

“I’m serious! He’s aiming for gold at the _Sochi Winter Olympics_ next year, and I’m just… well, failing at life in general.”

“Viktor…!”

“Should I bring roses and chocolate? But what if he had to keep a strict diet? Even though he had bacon and pancakes and pizza last week? Maybe not chocolate, perhaps some wine instea-, no, he wasn’t drinking at the party, maybe he doesn’t like alcohol…”

“ _Viktor!_ ”

Viktor’s babbling mouth finally snapped shut. Chris sighed, mostly in relief.

“Take a deep breath, all right?” he encouraged, patting Viktor’s shoulder, “It’ll be a hassle to carry flowers and other such things around, you know? Just go like this; you can bring him gifts some other time. Now, what was your plan again?”

“Kiss him silly.”

“As much as I like that plan, maybe do something else before getting to that point.”

Viktor shook himself out of his hopeless daydream, which had caused the involuntary (yet honest) answer to slip past his lips, “W-well, nothing too fancy. Bowling and dinner.”

“You mean bowling and take-out.” Chris grinned, and Viktor rolled his eyes and swatted him on the arm. The Swiss merely winked at him. “Have fun, you dork.”

 

**

 

Viktor considered himself to be a very, very lucky man. Had someone asked him a little over a week ago, though, “lucky” was not the word he would have used to describe himself at all. “Complete failure” would have been closer to the truth.

But as he found himself mere seconds away from kissing Yuuri _freaking_ Katsuki, he considered himself a lucky man indeed. The luckiest man in the world, in fact.

Yuuri was drop-dead gorgeous in his skin-tight jeans and navy-blue sweater that showed off his lean-yet-soft body just right. Viktor had a small (strong) suspicion that Phichit was to thank for the styling, and he certainly wasn’t complaining. Yuuri’s hair was pushed back, unlike the cute, messy thing it had been the previous Saturday morning, closer to the look he seemed to prefer while he skated. Not that Viktor had watched all of Yuuri’s routines he could find on the internet over and over again for a solid week or anything like that.

The skater’s cheeks were kissed pink like cherry blossom springing out in bloom, chestnut eyes with speckles of gold wide and adorable behind blue-rimmed spectacles, which he slowly reached up to remove from his face and place in the breast pocket of his sweater. Dark lashed fluttered as he closed his eyes and tilted his head up.

Viktor, being the impatient person he was, cupped soft cheeks with both hands before dipping down to claim invitingly pink lips with his own.

He was transported straight to heaven, and that really was the only straight thing about the entire situation. He wound his arms tight around Yuuri’s slim waist and Yuuri’s hands found his hair, not pulling but stroking through the locks fondly, reverently, as if petting a precious pet. All of a sudden, Viktor felt terribly emotional, causing him to gasp and willingly allowing Yuuri access into his mouth.

The fingers in his hair slowly tightened, but never pulled.

To think that he somehow ended up in Yuuri’s arms due to a party he didn’t want to attend and a black-out drunken night of terrible pick-up lines and even more terrible self-control was surreal to say the least. That all of those completely unforgivable things he had done had somehow led him to Yuuri’s doorstep, his embrace, and his soft, soft kiss.

And apparently, to his bedroom. To his bed. Sober this time around.

This was the aftermath Viktor wouldn’t have traded for the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya, hope you enjoyed! Just a little thing essentially written all in one go at some point in March/April... I think? Around the time I was stuck with the thought: what if Viktor was the one getting black-out drunk? I think I started with some kind of banquet thing but... it turned into this in the end. I'm not sorry.
> 
> I'll be back next week with a new chapter of GF, but I really have to get settled at work first, there are many big things coming up and I've had to work my ass off to get everything done in time (I've worked ridiculous amounts of overtime the past week).
> 
> Hugs and love! ^.^


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